


Divinity

by fukujoshi (charmed7293)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Drowning, Human Sacrifice, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Poisoning, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed7293/pseuds/fukujoshi
Summary: Yuuri is a simple traveling dancer. He finds the flexibility and freedom of his lifestyle quite agreeable, until it is all taken away from him when he's accused of using his foreign dancing to bring about drought and famine in the latest city he's visited. The temple officials declare he must be sacrificed to the gods, but it seems one of them wants him alive.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 170





	Divinity

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I've been working on for a while and pushed myself to finish for Whumptober. I hope to be able to write more often and hopefully get some updates for my other unfinished works soon!
> 
> Only partially beta-ed. If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out in the comments. Shout out to [Meri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsup_buttercup/pseuds/whatsup_buttercup) for reading parts of this over. Go check out her Whumptober fic!

“Tie him up there.”

The head priest gives the order from astride his horse, looking down with a haughty gaze. Yuuri glares back at him as the other two acolytes drag him forwards. He’s liked none of the head priests, and there have been several during his time as a “guest” at the temple. This one is the youngest of them all, simply because there are no older priests willing to step into the position of leadership and responsibility, not after everything that happened to the predecessors.

Because of their failures, this new one has tried a different approach, which apparently involves bringing Yuuri into the mountains, where snowfall has already begun, and tying him to those stakes in the ground. Maybe he thinks being away from the temple means the gods won’t interfere. However, based on what happened before, Yuuri believes at least one of them wants him alive enough to keep a constant watch.

* * *

Yuuri came to this city as a dancer, on the last of his money and hoping to raise funds to continue his travels. It was a cycle he had found himself in for the past few years and, despite the unpredictability, it was not at all disagreeable. There wasn’t much else he could ask for than being able to travel and dance.

He entertained in nobles’ houses and tavern rooms alike, anywhere that would hire him. He learned many things from overheard conversations: gossip about sexual affairs among couples, political scandals, who wasn’t worshipping enough at the temple. There was much talk about the temple, which seemed to be the ruling power. People trusted the head priest’s judgement, deferring to it unfailingly. Everyone relied on prayers to their multitude of gods for divine protection.

Just a few weeks into his stay, Yuuri began to hear whispers of famines and droughts plaguing the land. Hard times were ahead. He scrimped and saved, anticipating moving again to more prosperous lands. It was sooner than he would have liked, but necessary; if people didn’t have money for food, they certainly wouldn’t have any to spend on entertainment.

After deciding on a new destination, he set about packing his few belongings. He was prepared to leave the next morning, but his plans were disrupted.

Guards barged through the door of his lodgings to drag him away. He was bound and marched through the streets to the cheers of the same people he had entertained and danced for. Their shouts and jeers spoke of the foreign evil spirit who had brought misfortune to their land, sapping the earth of nutrients and making the rivers run dry. Yuuri’s face burned at their words.

There was no point in trying to defend his innocence. Who would listen? Certainly not the council of priests before whom he had been brought. They declared that his presence and dancing had angered the gods––and they would only be satisfied if he was given up as a sacrifice.

* * *

The mountain is freezing. Yuuri is practically wearing rags, with only scraps left of his shirt and pants and his sole protection against the chill being a threadbare cloak draped over his shoulders. The acolytes pay little mind to how he slips on the snow, trying to dig his heels in. When they reach the stakes, they roughly turn him around to face the high priest. One holds his arms as the other bends down to secure his ankles, pulling them apart and securing them in iron cuffs, cold and unforgiving. The wide stance puts him off balance and there’s nothing he can do as the acolytes take an arm each. His arms are brought over his head and stretched out to their limits to reach the tops of either stake. More iron cuffs are snapped over his wrists.

The head priest walks his horse closer, a sneer upon his face. “I’d like to see you dance now.”

Yuuri only glares, not giving him the satisfaction of a response.

“As the head priest, it’s my duty to interpret the gods’ will,” he continues. “They’re clearly angered by your presence here, despite what others say about the…misfortunes that have occurred.”

* * *

“Our retribution will be swift. The gods take no pleasure in suffering, even if they demand blood. Your blood.”

Yuuri had long since given up his mask of indifference. He was hyperventilating, threatening to break into sobs once again. Being brought into a ceremonial chamber and laid out on an altar had put things into startling perspective. This was _real_.

Acolytes held him down, not even wasting time with actual restraints, and he had run out of strength to fight them. A guard with a wicked–looking axe stood next to Yuuri’s head.

The head priest continued his speech. “We bring prosperity back to our land with this sacrifice. We offer it freely. For the gods!”

“For the gods!” the guard echoed. He heaved the axe over his head––but suddenly paused. With a choking noise, he stumbled back, the axe falling from his hands. His hands clutched at his chest as he collapsed to the floor. Other guards rushed forward, trying to help, but they didn’t know what was wrong. Yuuri didn’t either, watching with a mix of horror and relief.

The guard let out a final rattle and completely slumped over.

“He’s dead,” someone said.

“It was the foreigner!”

“He killed him!”

Panic broke out. Acolytes released him with shouts of horror and scrambled away, some even fleeing from the room. Yuuri dragged himself into a sitting position; he could use this chaos to escape.

“You fools!” the head priest called out above the commotion. “Do not waver in your faith! The gods will protect you. This is how the evil spirit will slip inside your heart and wreak havoc.”

He strode forward confidently, picking the axe off the floor as he went. Several acolytes, inspired by his words, grabbed Yuuri and pushed him back down onto the altar. The head priest swung the axe over his head.

Yuuri closed his eyes. Surely the same miracle couldn’t happen and save him again. Yet, impossibly, he heard the same noises the guard had made, this time coming from the head priest. The panic was even worse this time, screams and shouts of terror drowning out frantic prayers. Hands released Yuuri, but that freedom meant nothing as the room was emptied and barricaded, trapping him inside with the two bodies.

Panting harshly, Yuuri curled up on the altar, squeezing his eyes shut. He was too numb to move. What just happened?! He should be dead right now; instead two others were, both of them lying just below him. Yuuri kept his eyes shut, unwilling to even risk a glimpse of their corpses. Eventually, his panic gave way to exhaustion, and he slept.

An unknown amount of time later, a soft glow woke him. There were no windows down here in the dungeons and the candles used for lighting must be burned out by now. He should be surrounded by pitch darkness, but there was light shining through his eyelids.

Yuuri carefully rolled onto his back and tilted his face toward the glow before opening his eyes. The first thing he saw was _blue_ , two sapphires inlaid into the ceiling over pale tiles. It almost seemed like they were twinkling at him. What were such precious jewels doing in a place like this?

But there was more to the glow than the sapphires and Yuuri let his gaze continue to wander over the ceiling. There were more colors, forming a shape, and as Yuuri took it in he quickly realized it was a person. A person with sapphires for eyes and silver for hair, frozen as if it was being whipped around by a strong wind. The hair was long yet Yuuri could tell this person was a man, indicated by the broad shoulders and powerful stance. His expression was inscrutable and, though he was only a mural, he was incredibly beautiful.

Almost as if he was in a trance, Yuuri stood and reached up. He wanted to touch this man. Something about him was calling out to Yuuri, beckoning him closer. Standing on the altar, he could just barely brush his fingertips over the man’s cheek. He held them there, wanting to maintain this tenuous contact. He stayed until his arm shook from exhaustion and even then he merely laid back on the altar to continue his staring.

Eventually, the bodies began to smell, driving Yuuri to a far corner of the room. He hated to be drawn away from the man on the ceiling, but he could still see him and his glow from his new position. That’s all that mattered. It was…inspiring, in a way. Yuuri wanted to dance. It may have been what got him into this mess in the first place, but he wanted to dance for the man on the ceiling. There was no one here to stop him and so he did.

* * *

Yuuri slept and danced. He had no way of tracking the passage of time beyond the increasingly persistent gnawing in his stomach.

He danced in the glow of the man on the ceiling, in a room that smelled of rotting flesh.

* * *

Yuuri woke slowly, knowing something was…off, but not sure what it was. Looking around frantically, he realized what it was. The man on the ceiling was fading. His glow was dimming, retreating up his body until only his silver hair was shining and his sapphire eyes were twinkling. Yuuri desperately wanted to run to the altar and climb atop it again, to reach for the man, but the last time he tried to approach, the sight of maggots crawling over the bodies of the guard and head priest drove him away, retching.

“No!” Yuuri tried to shout, but no sound came out of his parched throat. He heard footsteps and voices outside the door. As they drew closer, the man’s silver hair and sapphire eyes dulled until the glow was finally extinguished.

The door swung open and Yuuri ripped his gaze away from the darkened ceiling. Guards stepped in hesitantly, eyeing him warily. A woman dressed in robes entered behind them. She strode directly toward him, heedless of the guards’ warnings.

“As the new head priest, I have decided what should be done with you.” She looked down at him as if he was a bug she desired to crush beneath her heel. “The gods were clearly displeased with our attempt. I will try something different.”

At a wave of her hand, the guards approached cautiously. They held their shields up, but Yuuri didn’t know what they expected from him. He must have been trapped in here for several days without food or drink. It’s not as if he had the energy to attack and he had no magic to do so either, despite what they believed. He was too weak to resist as the guards grasped his arms. They pulled him up, but he couldn’t even stand so they ended up dragging him out the door.

The new head priest led the way down a hallway and up a set of stairs. They must have reached ground level, as windows started dotting the walls, showing a vicious rainstorm outside.

“It rains now,” the head priest said, “after months of empty skies. Clearly, the gods were pleased with our attempt to sacrifice you and now we know how they want it done.”

They reached a set of double doors, which swung open at their approach, leading to a balcony. The stone was drenched, as were the few acolytes gathered around a great marble basin. The head priest stepped into their midst.

“The gods have given us rain with which to drown the evil spirit!” she shouted, raising her arms to the heavens. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

Yuuri knew he was sobbing as he was hauled outside, but was pretty sure there were no tears, as dehydrated as he was. Even if there were, at least the rain would conceal them. He didn’t want to show these people any more weakness than he could help. The guards stopped in front of the basin.

“This time, I will perform the act myself.”

The head priest grabbed Yuuri by the hair, pulling until he was bent over the edge of the basin, looking into the water. Yuuri barely had a second to take a breath before his face broke the surface. He struggled, thrashing around, but the grips on his arms and hair were too strong.

Through his tightly closed eyes, he saw a bright flash––lightning. Following as it always did was a mighty clap of thunder, still loud despite being muffled by the water. It must have come from directly above! His hair was released, quickly followed by his arms. He pulled himself out of the water, stumbling back from the basin and landing on his backside. Squinting, he tried to see what was happening through the rain and his poor eyesight. People were fleeing once again, this time from a pillar of blue fire. He could just barely make out the silhouette of a person within the flames.

“Monster! Witch!” the head priest shrieked. She grabbed the basin and pulled, trying to send it falling down upon him.

There was another flash of lightning and Yuuri watched as it arched down from the sky. It struck the head priest right on the top of her head, igniting that unnatural fire. It sizzled in the rain, but refused to be put out. Despite the proximity, it didn’t feel hot, though the head priest screamed as if she was being burned alive.

Yuuri could only watch as her skin melted away and her bones charred until they were nothing but ash. He knew he should be horrified, but he could only bring himself to be entranced with the bright blue flames, their color just as brilliant as the eyes of the man on the ceiling.

* * *

Yuuri was taken into custody once again and, strangely, placed in a small, but comfortable room. There was even furniture––a small table, a chair, and a bed, which Yuuri collapsed onto. He slept, exhausted.

He was still alone when he woke, no person or man on the ceiling to keep him company. There was no one to watch him, but, nevertheless, he danced.

* * *

He had just lain back down when the door opened and a man in familiar robes entered the room. He smiled benevolently, but Yuuri didn’t trust it for a second.

“I wanted to apologize for how my predecessors treated you. They were going about things the wrong way. We shouldn’t punish you for your past actions!” the man, evidently the new head priest, said. He sat in the chair. “The gods teach us understanding and forgiveness. I want to uphold those values and _save_ you.”

Yuuri blinked back at the head priest incredulously. What was he going on about?

“First, let’s get you some food and then we can talk.”

The door opened again, letting in an acolyte carrying two trays of food. They were both set on the table next to the bed. Though the contents were the same, the plate closer to Yuuri had much smaller portions, accounting for the fact that he hadn’t eaten in several days. Yuuri eyed it suspiciously.

“I promise you that this food has not been tainted. Why would we waste our own precious resources in such a manner?” the head priest said, punctuating his words by taking a bite of his food.

Reluctantly, Yuuri picked up his fork. What did it matter if it was poisoned? It was either die quickly from that or suffer as he starved. Once he started eating, it was difficult to stop even for breathing. Yuuri barely heard the head priest speak again.

“Tell me, why did you come here? Why did you dance to bring drought and famine upon the innocent people of this land? Did some evil spirit coerce you or have you been possessed?”

There was no point in trying to advocate for his own innocence––he would only be ignored––so Yuuri refused to respond.

This pattern repeated itself over the next several days. Yuuri tracked the path of the sun across the sky through the single small window in his room and quickly picked up that the head priest visited at all mealtimes. They ate together, the head priest continuing his questioning and Yuuri holding steadfast in his silence.

This evening’s meal seemed no different than the others. Yuuri’s portion was now equal to the head priest’s, having recovered from those days without food. It was a mix of green vegetables and some bread, dotted with oats and paired with rich butter. There were also some bright blue berries, the color of sapphires––the color of the man on the ceiling’s eyes. Before Yuuri could begin eating, the head priest held up his hand to stall him.

“I can see that I have not been able to get through to you with words. Perhaps it’s the evil spirits possessing your body forcibly holding your tongue? If that’s the case, then our next step will be to banish them.” The head priest’s smile was strained as he sat down. “Those preparations will take several days, so let us not worry about that now and eat.”

He pointedly picked up his fork and gestured for Yuuri to do the same. Yuuri ate quickly as he always did, afraid that the head priest would get fed up with his silence and take his food away.

“We have a special treat for dessert, some lovely blueberries. Make sure you savor these,” the head priest said, popping one in his mouth. “Our gardeners say the bushes are very hard to grow in the soil here.”

Yuuri stared at his pile of berries. Something in his gut twisted and it had nothing to do with the food currently sitting heavy in his stomach. He remembered a warning he had received when he had first arrived in this land. He had come across an old medicine woman while on the road. She had shown him a great gathering of bushes, which had appeared to be ripe with blueberries.

“Stay away from these,” she had said. “Iceberries deceive you with their appearance, but will bring certain, painful death if you consume them. Better to go hungry than die in agony.”

The gardeners of the temple must have known this as well and would not serve their own head priest poison, but that did not mean Yuuri’s portion was safe.

“Please, indulge a little!” the head priest insisted. “As I’ve said before, your food has not been tainted. We would not waste food during such hard times.”

Yuuri believed that. They were trying to kill him for the betterment of the people, but feeding him poisonous berries was not taking away food from anyone.

The head priest had noticed his hesitance. He was frowning, but Yuuri could tell it wasn’t in concern. When he saw that Yuuri was watching, he quickly rearranged his features into a placid smile and made a show of eating another berry.

“I simply mean that I’m still concerned about your health. Exorcisms can be very draining and it’s important for you to keep up your strength.”

Despite the head priest’s attempt to school his expression, there was still a manic glint in his eyes. He was staring almost eagerly at Yuuri’s plate, as if he was waiting for something. Yuuri leaned away, pushing himself back.

“Now you’re just being foolish,” the head priest scolded. “We’ve taken such good care of you and even give you these rare berries!”

Yuuri’s back had long since hit the wall trying to put distance between himself and the head priest, yet he wanted to be even farther away.

The head priest rose from his chair and his voice grew darker and darker as he spoke. “I could have left you alone to starve to death, but I had the good graces to feed you after you’ve caused the demise of _thousands_.”

The head priest’s gaze pierced through Yuuri. That glint in his eyes was still there.

“Do you intend to answer for your crimes? Forgiveness takes much to earn and you––”

He cut off, eyes growing wide and jaw clenching. With a low groan, the head priest wrapped his arms around his stomach and bent double.

“Wha––” he gasped. He looked around frantically, finally settling on the berries on each of their plates. With shaking hands, he picked one from each of the piles and brought them close to his face. “N–no…no!”

With a jerky movement, he swept the trays from the table, sending berries rolling and bouncing across the floor.

The head priest lunged. His hands closed around Yuuri’s throat, but the grip was weak. Yuuri easily broke away and scrambled off the bed to the other side of the room, hyperventilating.

“There can be no forgiveness for you! There will be no redemption!” the head priest shouted, though his voice became weaker and weaker. “The gods will punish you with what is just in their eyes!”

There was a knock on the door. “Sir? Is everything okay?”

“H–help!”

The door opened, letting in a pair of guards. One immediately stepped forward to the head priest, reaching him just in time to hold him in his death throes. The other held up his shield and pointed his spear at Yuuri, as if to ward him away, but Yuuri had no desire to approach the scene playing out before him.

“Y–you imbeciles!” the head priest choked out between clenched teeth. “The wrong…berries…”

He seized once more, then fell lax in the guard’s arms. The guard picked a berry up off the floor and examined it.

“Iceberries,” he whispered. “He ate the iceberries instead…”

The guards spoke quickly and quietly to each other before dragging the head priest’s body from the room. The door closed solidly behind them, undoubtedly locked. Yuuri was left alone once again. Berries the color of sapphires were scattered across the floor, some harmless blueberries and others deadly iceberries.

* * *

When they next came for him, the berries were stamped into the floor and his feet were smeared with their juices.

* * *

There were more after that––more head priests, more attempts on his life, more unexplained phenomena that saved him with flashes of blue and silver. Yuuri lost track of numbers as everything began to blur together in his mind. Eventually, he even stopped being afraid.

Something or someone divine clearly wants him alive.

The head priest’s horse breathes heavily as he guides it closer, bringing Yuuri out of his thoughts. “No doubt your own magic played a part in killing all my predecessors. I believe they made things too personal, so I will use a more hands–off approach. We leave you to the elements. They will claim your life. Let’s see you save yourself now.”

He’s right. Not even a god can stop nature itself.

The head priest reaches down and unclasps the cloak, letting it fall from Yuuri’s shoulders.

“I don’t think it will take long. It’s already cold and temperatures only drop at night. I’ve heard that you will feel warm before it all ends. Not a bad way to die.”

The cloak hardly offered much protection against the cold, but Yuuri is already shivering. A freezing wind kicks up, blowing right through his thin clothes.

The head priest pulls his own thick cloak closer. He turns his horse away and motions for the acolytes to follow, but suddenly pauses to throw one last look over his shoulder. “That is...unless the animals get to you first. Can’t imagine that would be very pleasant. You will get the fate that you deserve.”

Yuuri waits until they’re out of sight before sagging in his bonds. He has no tears left.

* * *

His shoulders begin to ache and he’s forced to stand properly again. He can’t feel his fingers and he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or lack of circulation.

The shadows on the snow are lengthening. Yuuri watches as they stretch across the path and over a rock pile. As the light dims, the air becomes colder. The wind has also grown more vicious, biting.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this. Despite his transient lifestyle, he had never fallen upon hardships that left him without shelter. His services could always be exchanged for room and board, whether it be a small inn on the side of a road or a grand lodging house in the middle of a busy city. Nights spent out in the open were few and far between and he took care for them to never occur during harsh weather.

A swirl of white in the corner of his eyes catches his attention––snow. It starts to fall more thickly, blown around by a harsh wind. Yuuri gasps as it lashes against his exposed skin. He feels the cold all the way down to his bones.

* * *

He must have faded out of consciousness because the next thing he sees is a fresh dusting of snow covering the ground and a clear, starry sky above. It’s nighttime. It should be colder, especially with the snow. Why doesn’t he feel cold?

Oh.

Like the head priest said, he will feel warm before it ends.

When he exhales, Yuuri can’t even see his own breath. Is it possible to be that cold and yet still alive? How is he not dead?

Then something _shifts_ behind him. There’s no noise. There’s only the displacement of air in the unnatural stillness. He can feel the thing getting closer and closer, soundless, and the hairs on the back of his neck raise. This is no animal, but Yuuri isn’t sure that’s a good thing.

His heart is racing, proving he’s not dead after all. Yuuri pulls against his bonds, but they hold firm. There’s nothing he can do to escape. He squeezes his eyes shut and braces for the worst.

Something brushes against his hip and he flinches, sucking in a harsh breath. Human–feeling arms wrap around his waist.

“Oh, my Yuuri,” a voice breathes into his ear. “Look at what they’ve done to you.”

Yuuri thrashes in panic, but the arms tighten, pulling him flush against a hard chest. He can’t even twist around to see who is holding him.

“Shhh,” the voice soothes. “No one will hurt you ever again.”

The arms give him a squeeze before sliding away. Yuuri whips his head around, eyes roving over the empty landscape frantically. Then he feels that strange _shift_ from before, this time in front of him. Yuuri quickly turns back.

Before him is…surely not a human. This being looks like a man, but he is far too perfect to be a mere mortal. Yuuri never gave much consideration to attractiveness, but now finds himself unable to look away. His gaze darts over the being’s figure, unwilling to stare at any bit too long out of fear that he won’t be able to look away.

Everything he sees just confirms his original thought. No mundane human can have hair like that, the color of silver or platinum and seeming to glow the longer Yuuri looks at it. His eyes are just as unnatural, bluer than any sky or ocean, saturated to the point of impossibility. His lips, curled into a gentle smile, look soft and plush––inviting, even, and Yuuri has never once entertained the thought of kissing another person. Overall, his face is…is… _stunning_ and, from what Yuuri can tell, he has a body to match. He wears clothes similar to those Yuuri has seen at the temple, but there’s something different about them, more regal and fitting. The only thing approaching average about this being is his height; though he still towers over Yuuri, he has seen people who are taller, if only by centimeters.

As bizarre and almost alien this being’s appearance is, Yuuri finds he is somehow hauntingly familiar.

“Oh, you recognize me?” the being asks. “I can tell from your expression. This is the first time I’ve shown myself to you, but you’ve _seen_ me before.”

His eyes twinkle fondly. Yuuri gasps as memories rush into his mind, memories of his first night in the temple, standing on an altar and reaching for a face with sapphire eyes and framed by silver hair. It must have been weeks, months, since he last saw that image, but surely this is him, the man on the ceiling…

“Yes, there we are.” He reaches out and cups Yuuri’s face in both his hands, tilting it carefully as if checking for injuries. “They’ve done terrible things to you, but I won’t let them touch you ever again.”

“Y––” Yuuri starts, but his voice cracks and fails him. He hasn’t used it in a very long time. Even that pitiful attempt has strained him and leaves him coughing.

The being whines in concern. His hands slip down to Yuuri’s throat. They glow, familiarly, and that scratching pain goes away.

“Y–you’re a god,” Yuuri manages to say this time.

“Of course.”

“But…I don’t b–believe in you.” Yuuri regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. He has just gotten his voice back and he says something like that! “I–I mean––”

The being shushes him, fingers now stroking through Yuuri’s hair. “Belief means nothing to me. I’ve been worshipped for centuries. I don’t need more devotees and their empty prayers. Anyone who does their work with _passion_ gains my favor. And you, my Yuuri, dance with the most vigorous passion I have ever seen.”

He pauses to press a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead.

“The passion you have for your art caught my attention long ago and I’ve been watching you since then,” the being continues. “Your journeys have been long and arduous, yet you never wavered. You kept dancing and it was beautiful. Beyond a doubt the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

The being is excited now, his eyes practically glowing and his mouth stretched into a smile that could almost be called heart–shaped. Yuuri moves his mouth wordlessly, stunned into silence by how beautiful the being is when he smiles.

Not to mention that those must be the first genuine words of warmth that have been directed Yuuri’s way since he was dragged through the streets to the temple. It’s difficult to breathe again, but this time in an entirely pleasant way.

“But these latest trials have been too much,” the being says, sobering suddenly. “Your body has been pushed past its limits and not even I can do anything to help you…well, at least not if you want to stay here.”

Hands cup Yuuri’s face and tilts his head so their foreheads touch.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks when he finds his voice.

“I’ve come for you. I can take you away from all this,” the being nearly whispers. His gaze is intense, penetrating, especially from this close.

Yuuri stares into those familiar and reassuring blue eyes, trying to interpret the words. Take him away . . .

“Are you the god of death?” he asks.

There’s a beat of silence, and then the being huffs a laugh. “No, I’m not, but I think she’s a distant cousin. I’m Victor, the god of passion.”

“Victor…” Yuuri whispers, processing everything he’s been told. Despite not believing in this god, it seems Yuuri has curried his favor and if Victor is truly the man on the ceiling Yuuri can’t bring himself to mind.

Besides, he will be confronting a god either way; it might as well be the one he’s been dancing for all this time.

Yuuri quickly dismisses a fleeting thought about what it means to be neither dead nor alive and says, “Passion sounds better than death.”

That beautiful smile breaks out over Victor’s face once again and Yuuri can’t help but return it.

“If you want to come with me, you’ll have to consume something divine. But it seems I haven’t brought any food with me…”

Victor doesn’t seem too daunted by that, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. He pulls back slightly and his hands start to wander down Yuuri’s body.

“Yuuuuuuri, as I’m sure you know, passion has many forms.”

Victor grips the shreds of Yuuri’s shirt and _yanks_. It’s so tattered that it rips like paper and falls from Yuuri’s shoulders. He gasps, more at the suddenness of the action than anything else.

“You present quite the tempting picture, all chained up and left here just for me. A god shouldn’t ignore a sacrifice.”

Yuuri likes that framing of his situation better than the reality; he’s here for Victor, for his man on the ceiling. He can deny the stir of arousal in his gut no more than he can deny the heat in Victor’s gaze.

Victor’s hands skim over the bare skin of Yuuri’s chest and down his stomach until they settle on his hips. His fingers dip into the waistband of his pants.

“Should these go as well?”

Yuuri gathers himself enough to nod eagerly.

“They don’t leave much to the imagination anyway,” Victor says, plucking at a hole in the worn fabric before hooking his finger in it and tugging. The fabric rips until it reaches a seam and splits upon it. Yuuri’s hips are pulled forward by the force of it and he willingly follows through with the motion.

As his pants fall away, Victor’s hands trail back up his torso, following the lines of strained muscles up to Yuuri’s shoulders and continuing along his arms. Victor’s fingers circle around the cuffs on his wrists. Yuuri expects him to release them, but he does not. Instead, Victor switches his grip to the chains attached to the cuffs and, at his touch, they lengthen.

Yuuri’s legs collapse under him and he braces himself for a hard landing, but instead of his knees crashing onto the unforgiving stone as he anticipated, the ground gives like the soft cushioning of a mattress. This new kneeling position puts Yuuri at eye–level with Victor’s crotch and things fully click in Yuuri’s mind. There are other things to consume besides food…

Yuuri finds that he wants this very much. After all his devotion to the man on the ceiling, all the passion he felt for him, it’s only natural that it led here.

He looks up at Victor, who is smiling down at him benevolently. His hand strokes through Yuuri’s hair again.

“Is this acceptable to you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “Yes, please, I want it. I want you!”

“As you wish, my Yuuri.”

Victor’s clothes melt away, revealing his perfectly chiseled body. Yuuri’s gaze drags over sculpted pecs, down to defined abs, and down again to the most perfect cock he’s ever seen. It’s already hard and lengthening.

Yuuri eagerly leans forward as best he can and licks at the tip. Victor steps closer, granting Yuuri full access. It’s been a long time since he’s had any sexual encounters, but he still remembers how to do this; it was always one of his favorite things.

He runs his tongue down the entire length, all the way to the base. He continues, trying to get the shaft wet, despite the fact that he can tell he won’t be able to fit the whole thing into his mouth.

Above him, Victor coos and rambles words of encouragement. “ _Ah_ , Yuuri, just like that…I can’t wait to feel your mouth…” 

Yuuri laves at the head of Victor’s cock before taking it into his mouth. Pressing his tongue against the underside, he pushes forward to take more. Victor’s fingers curl into his hair and his hips shift with an aborted thrust, but neither is demanding. At those slips of control, Yuuri is filled with a confidence unlike he’s ever felt before. He can make a god lose himself in pleasure!

Feeling bolder, Yuuri pushes himself until the head of Victor’s cock hits the back of his throat. He pulls back a bit and bobs his head, slowly working against his gag reflux and taking more and more. Victor’s cock, hot and heavy in his mouth, stretches his jaw open wide.

Yuuri reaches his limit far sooner than he would have liked. He’s managed to take most of Victor’s cock, but there’s still quite a ways to go. He moans, half in disappointment, half in longing, and Victor groans, his hand shifting to cup the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“I don’t think I’m going to last much longer, my Yuuri,” Victor says, sounding winded. “You just look too good like this.”

Yuuri simply swallows around him in response and Victor groans again. With what seems like great effort, he pulls back until the head of his cock rests against Yuuri’s lips.

“Will you let me have your mouth, Yuuri? Let me take what I need?”

For the first time, Yuuri pulls against his bonds, wanting to grip Victor’s hips and guide his cock back into his mouth. “Yes! Please, _please_ …”

Victor smiles at him and brings both hands to gently grip either side of Yuuri’s head. His cock slips back into Yuuri’s mouth and he eagerly opens to accept it. Starting with shallow thrusts, Victor slowly builds depth and speed. He never goes farther than Yuuri was able to take him at first and instinctively knows when to slow and let Yuuri catch his breath. Yuuri can feel tears sliding down his cheek, drool slicking his chin, and his own hardness throbbing between his legs, but it’s all good, so good. There’s nothing to be self–conscious about; Victor desires him.

There’s a tightening of the grip on Yuuri’s head and then Victor is spilling down his throat. It tastes surprisingly sweet. Yuuri swallows, milking Victor’s cock as he comes with his throat and ensuring he gets every last drop. He’s distantly aware of his own release, feeling some of it splatter against his thighs.

Victor is panting heavily above him as he steps away. Yuuri looks up and is satisfied to see how disheveled Victor looks. His hair is messy and there’s a thin sheen of sweat over his muscles.

Yuuri licks his lips and swallows, reveling in the soreness in his throat, the kind that feels so much better than the scratchiness that came with being dehydrated and mute for too long. That seems like it was so long ago now. All aches and pains have melted away and even the memories of his time in captivity at the temple feel dulled and distant.

The cuffs around his ankles and wrists fall away, but Victor’s hands grip Yuuri’s own to prevent his arms from falling. With some support from Victor, Yuuri rises to his feet. He’s able to stand easily, no pins and needles running up and down his legs or pain in his knees. As Yuuri glances down at his body, he finds that he’s glowing with the same light as Victor does.

“Divinity suits you, Yuuri.” Victor is appraising him as well, with an almost awestruck look on his face.

 _Divinity_. So that’s what this is?!

Victor sweeps Yuuri into his arms and spins them around. Yuuri’s delighted shriek melds into a laugh as he clutches at Victor’s shoulders. When he’s set back on his feet, it’s with a swish of fabric and they’re both suddenly clean and clothed again, Victor back in his original outfit and Yuuri now in similar clothes to him instead of his rags.

“These are so much better on you,” Victor says, echoing Yuuri’s thoughts. He smooths an invisible crease out of the collar. “I want to take you to my realm, but there’s a stop we should make first.”

“I’ll go anywhere as long as it’s with you,” Yuuri responds.

Victor pulls him close, brushing their lips together.

There’s a whooshing sensation and they’re surrounded by light on all sides. Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut at the brightness. It fades and Yuuri feels wind against his face. Victor’s arm is warm and secure around him, so he feels safe enough to open his eyes, only to gasp and slam them shut again.

They’re floating in the air!

From what he took in during the brief moment his eyes were open, they’re at a dizzying height above a cluster of buildings. Despite knowing that Victor won’t let him fall, Yuuri clings to him and turns his face into Victor’s chest, which rumbles with laughter.

“Ah, I suppose you’ve never traveled this way before!”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just focus on one thing at a time.”

Victor’s arm slides more firmly around him and Yuuri cracks open an eye. He sees snowy mountains and a river winding between them. He follows the river as it passes by some buildings. Next to those are more buildings, more and more. The whole picture is familiar. Yuuri’s gaze darts about the city until he finds the largest and grandest building – the temple.

Yuuri looks up at Victor questioningly. “It’s the temple where…why would you bring me back here?”

A wicked smile cuts across Victor’s face. “How about we go introduce them to their new god?”


End file.
